Break My Heart
by NihonBara
Summary: Ivan was Amelia's everything until he threw her away, but she wasn't going to take that.  No sir.  She'd show him what he'd given up.   A story about moving on after your heart is broken.    Ivan x Fem Ame x UK .  Based on the idea of Skip Beat!
1. Chapter 1

**Break My Heart**

Ivan was Amelia's everything until he threw her away, but she wasn't going to take that. No sir. She'd show him what he'd given up. A story about moving on after your heart is broken. (Ivan x Fem Ame x UK). Based on the idea of Skip Beat!

(Semi-based on the manga "Skip Beat" which I also don't own. After heartbreak, it's not over.)

He was the most perfect, awesome, and wonderful man that had ever been. There was nothing that would change Amelia F. Jone's opinion on him. Ivan was her everything. One day she would be Mrs. Braginsiki.

That is, if she could keep his sister away from him. Amelia knew that other people, like her family, found him creepy and abusive, but to Amelia, he was a cuddly teddy bear behind that harsh exterior. She knew they shared a real love.

He appreciated her. He did. That's why when he asked her to come with him when he ran to their new life in England, she went without hesitation.

While he went through college, she did his laundry, the cooking, worked three jobs to pay for their apartment and his tuition fees, and so much more. Even though he often grumbled about her greasy cooking, he ate it.

A couple months ago, he got promoted from intern to Vice President at the company that had hired him. A great accomplishment and she was positive it was only a matter of time before he popped the question.

He was just so busy these days, rarely coming home. _When things calm down he'll be home more_, she assured herself. He was always staying over night at the office.

Tonight her triple shift at McDonalds had ended and rather than go home to an empty apartment, she decided to pay Ivan his first visit at his company. She knew it was late, but he would be there. There relationship was quite platonic. They didn't share a room as Ivan insisted that Amelia preserve herself for after marriage. She had blushed at those words thinking, "what a gentleman".

He kept promising as soon as he was finished settling into his new job and had saved up enough money for the future, which in Amelia's mind meant "their wedding", he would start helping out with the rent and such. Amelia, cheerful Amelia, ate up all his words.

Standing outside the tall, Rusca Enterprise building, she spotted a pay phone nearby and wondered if maybe she should call ahead. _Nah, I'll surprise him_, she thought.

She was still in her work red and yellow work uniform with a bag of burgers in her hand. Her boss had given them for a job well done. Amelia was a hard-worker and he was thinking of promoting her to assistant manager.

She had blushed at his words. Everyone always talked about how hard she worked. In face, they often worried that she was pushing herself too much.

_Gosh, you faint once or twice and suddenly everyone is concerned_, she thought. Only Ivan got it. He always pushed her to go further and not worry about physical limits.

She and Ivan were meant to be. One day they would have the Hollywood happy ending. She was sure of that. She headed inside.

OOO

Inside was a security officer at the desk. This was her first time in the building as Ivan never had invited her over saying some excuse about how they didn't like guests. Amelia was sure he was just being shy.

The man eyed her uniform and asked, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"I'm here to bring Ivan Braginisky his hamburgers," she lied, holding up the bag.

"Burgers?" He said, raising an eyebrow. "I better check with him."

"Well, you can but seeing as this is a surprise sent by his fiance, you'll ruin it and that might make him upset. And I'm sure you know how he can be upset," she warned. The man shuddered, clearly he did know.

"He has a fiance?" He said at little taken aback, but he waved her over and looked in the bag, seeing the burgers, he waved her on, asking one final question, "You do know the floor."

"Thirty-seven, right?" She said. Ivan had never told her, but she had sneaked a look at one of his business cards.

The man nodded and went back to his crossword puzzle as she went practically skipping to the elevators. She pushed the button. Oh, Ivan would be so surprised.

She pressed the button, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she waited. She spotted her grungy appearance reflected in the shiny elevator doors. Embarrassed she licked her palm and patted at her head, trying to tame her stupid cowlick, but it wouldn't go down.

Amelia never had time or money for make-up so her face was always a little oily, she took a napkin from her pocket, trying to wipe it off. A couple pimples were on her face, but other than that she looked fine. She adjusted her glasses and smoothed her clothes. Ivan often muttered about her weight so she had cut back on her food intake.

That had caused her to collapse a couple weeks back since, well, as her boss pointed out she wasn't so much fat as really thick as in muscular from always running here and there. She wished she wasn't. Ivan liked thin women and Amelia couldn't help her body type.

The doors opened with a ping. Getting on, she waited as the elevator took her up, to her beloved. Opening into a darkened hallway, she saw Ivan's office easy since it was the only room at the end with lights on.

_ I didn't know he had his own office_, she thought, approaching quietly, wanting to surprise him. In fact, she had wondered why he got promoted so quickly, but then her special Snowflake had probably just impressed the company with his amazing talents.

"Ah, Ah," came a voice. She frowned. That had sounded like a woman, but that was impossible. Creeping closer, she carefully opened the door a crack, peering in. The back of Ivan's black couch and his mahogany desk were the first things she could see.

Then she saw him, well the his back and the top of his silver-haired head rising up and down just above the top of the couch. She blushed, realizing he was shirtless. _What's he doing?_ She wondered. He looked sweaty and was moving rhythmically on the couch. _Is it some new exercise_? she wondered.

The idea of seeing Ivan naked and bare-chested sent a wave of heat through her. Opening her mouth to call to him, she froze when a soft, ivory hand rose above the couch's top and ran its fingers through his hair.

"Oh, Ivan. So good, aru," said a feminine voice. Her accent was not so thick.

He grunted and moaned. Amelia felt something crack in her chest. _It can't be,_ she wailed in her head. He wouldn't do that. Not to her.

The woman's demure chuckle sent more cracks through Amelia's heart. She felt like she was sinking into a deep dark hole of despair. Her grip on the bag tightened. Ivan loved her. He did. Amelia's mind scrambled for an excuse as she listened to him cum, crying out, "Yao!" before collapsing.

Their breathing was thick and heavy. This Yao broke the silence first, asking a cool voice, "Shall we continue at your place tonight, aru?"

"_Nyet_," Ivan answered. "Here is fine."

"But we always do it here or at a hotel or my place," Yao protested. "I want to see your place, aru."

_We always do it..._, that phrase reverberated in Amelia's heart. She sunk to her knees, her blood running cold. How long had they been doing this? Was he with Yao back on his birthday. A night she remembered so well. She had gotten off work early that day to spend her one free evening preparing him a cake and everything. He had never showed. Was this why?

_There's a good reason for this_, she thought. There had to be.

"Sorry, I cannot," he replied. "My maid is there."

_Maid?_ She repeated in her head, her eyes widening. Her knuckles turning white from how hard she gripped the back. It was amazing it didn't crinkle in her grasp. She was frozen solid.

"You have a maid, aru?" Yao chuckled. "Now I'm jealous. Is she pretty?"

"_Nyet,_" he said. "She is nothing compared to you. She is fat, eats like a pig, has horrible fashion sense, and wears a hideous pair of glasses."

"That is very harsh," Yao chided him, laughing again. "You are so mean."

Ivan giggled.

Amelia, however, was trembling with anger. _How...dare...he_, was all her blank head could manage. Something had snapped inside her and she saw red. There was a shattering sound in her mind and she knew that was her heart. The one she had given him and he was crushing into pieces.

_That...THAT BASTARD! _She roared in her head, shooting to her feet, she kicked the door open. Ivan sat up and Yao screamed. She threw the burgers at his head, missing by inches as she screamed, "IVAN!"

Ivan gaped at her wide-eyed. It was time to kick some ass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Tossed Aside Like Garbage**

Amelia was tossed unceremoniously onto the sidewalk by the security guards who warned her not to try and enter or they would call the cops.

For a moment she just sat there, glaring at their backs as they went back inside, then at the entrance, and then up at the dark windows of the 37th floor. The memory replaying in her head, making her blood boil all over again.

She didn't remember much between launching herself at Ivan and the security guards arrival. Other than him managing to pin her arm behind her back while she kicked and bit at him. That Yao had been in the background calling security.

All the while, Amelia had screamed and declared revenge. She got Ivan in the shin just as the guards arrived, but they pulled her away before she could punch him and then he had laughed at her.

_"So pathetic,"_ _he had giggled, that smile on his face that had been so cute was now so eerie. She had stilled at his words. Each one another blow of a sledgehammer on her battered heart. "Did you really think I'd date a disgusting, four-eyed pig like you? You are beneath me."_

_ "Ivan," Yao had gasped, Amelia hardly noticed. She could have been a statue from the way she froze. Each word sinking in like a knife in her chest. _

_ But he continued, laughing at her, "Don't bother waiting for me at that apartment. I will never come back. Now get out of my sight you worthless bitch."_

_ The guards led her away and she didn't fight anymore. Numb with shock. Had Ivan always felt that way? _Why didn't I see it before?_ she wondered, remembering her brother's warnings about him. Everyone had been right about Ivan. She had been so stupid._

She stood up from the sidewalk on wobbly legs that took her out of sight of the building. She found an alley and slid with her back down the wall, folding her arms on her knees, she buried her face in them. The hot tears started come. It hurt so bad.

_How could he?_ She wondered, the question repeating in her head again and again. Beneath the shock a new feeling bubbled out. Rage. Her fists clenched and her whole body trembled as she spoke, "You'll regret this. You'll regret everything," she swore.

Amelia stood up, her fists still at her side. She would show him. She wouldn't wait for him. She wouldn't beg. That trusting fool was gone. The new Amelia would begin here and now.

One that didn't need Ivan for self-worth. One that didn't believe in stupid Hollywood endings. That Amelia had been thrown in the trash by Ivan. This one would be different. This one would be beautiful and would live only for herself, not needing anyone.

She was done crying. Wiping off the tears furiously, she marched out toward her new life.

.oOo.

_ "_That was your maid, aru," Yao asked, staring at Ivan with her arms crossed. She was helping him pick up the pieces of his broken lamp and the other stuff that girl had knocked over. "You know we could sue her for property damage, aru, but then we would have to admit to what the _two_ of us were doing here, aru."

"No," Ivan said, shaking his head. "We will say nothing. The brat is gone, da."

"Your personal life is your business, aru," Yao stated, tossing the glass shards in the dust bin. "But that girl seemed to see you as more than an employer, aru. And those things you said to her... as a woman I was disgusted, aru."

"Do not lecture me," Ivan warned, righting the clock on his desk. He couldn't believe what a hurricane that girl had been. "I said those things for her own good, da."

"Her own good, aru?" Yao repeated skeptically.

"You saw her obsession with me, da," He affirmed. "She was not going to understand until I made it _very_ clear."

"By calling her a fat pig?" Yao said.

Ivan frowned, pausing at the bag of burgers on the floor. He picked it up.

"I will talk to the guards to keep quiet about this, aru," Yao said, leaving his office, she paused only a moment to tell him, "I hope for your sake that girl really _does_ mean nothing to you, aru." Then she was gone.

Ivan opened the torn bag. Three Fish Filet. The only burgers he liked from that god-awful place. He stared at them for a long moment, then shook his head, tossing them in the trashed, he repeated, "She is nothing to me, da."

(End of Chapter Two. Next up, Amelia gets a make-over as she throws off the shackles of her subservient past, but is it really so easy to change yourself?)


	3. Chapter 3: Change of Heart

**Chapter 3**

**Change of Heart**

She stared into the cracked, dimly-lit mirror. "Go on, you can do it," she told herself. Outside the club music was blaring some pop song by Lady Gaga. It had been two days since Ivan broke her heart.

She had lopped her hair short and had put gel in it. That one hair still stuck up stubbornly. For the first time in year she had worn make-up, using eyeliner and everything. Amelia even bought a half-cut brown jacket and a low black top with brown, leather skirt that went to just above her knees. She had splurged on knee-high grey boots. It had been ages since she bought clothes.

Her glasses had been traded for contacts tonight and two US flag earrings dangled from her ears. She had no friends to call. She was here alone. So much had changed. Her landlord had been super-nice and let her move out of her apartment. He was a gay man named Feliciano and he lived with his partner, some German guy. They were both kind in different ways and had been understanding enough to let her rent from their guest room until she had recovered.

_I won't fail_.

She jumped when someone banged on the door. "You done yet?" Some lady screeched from the other side. She sounded drunk off her as.

"Show time," Amelia said. The old Amelia didn't know how to have fun. She had been too busy slaving over Ivan's needs, but this Amelia would be different. She would change.

#

"Ya don't understand," Amelia drawled, gulping back her whiskey. "Men, they're all the same. Pigs."

"He left," someone said.

"Huh?" She grunted, trying to see through bleary eyes. The guy had an accent.

"Your friend went over there," the man said, pointing. She saw some busty blonde over in the corner.

"Figures," she grumbled. "Men!" She eyed her companion up and down. He was not only wearing a brown sweater vest to a night club, he had white undershirt and brown slacks on. His drink looked a martini. He sat very prissy and looked out of place. "What're you Aussie or sometin'?"

"Hmph," the man sniffed. "I'm British thank you very much. I assume you're America."

"Well, this is America," She retorted. _Sounds like a smarmy bastard._ "Are you sure you sure be here? I'm not sure you're _mummy_ would approve."

"Aren't you vindictive?" He remarked, "No wonder they avoid you."

_Ouch_. That stung. Even through her drunken haze that stung and she gripped her purse tightly. "Screw you. Screw all of you," she snapped. "You don't know anything!"

"I know a bitter person when I see one."

She stood up, almost stumbling, grabbing her drink, threw its remaining contents in his face. He gasped, blinking in a stunned way. "I've had enough of men like you!" She stormed off, blinking away her tears.

_I can't change, can I? This bitterness won't leave me, will it?_

#

Amelia stopped by the bathroom on her way out to vomit into the toilet. She felt like crap. _I drank too much. So much for my big debut._ The men were awful here. Shallow guys who only wanted cheap women.

It stung all the worse seeing how many women had come with friends and Amelia had none here. _How boring was I?_ She used to be popular. Back in High School she had been the star player on the football player and had even had a camera crew come to interview her so impressed with a High School Team that had a female quarterback, especially one that could take blows like a man.

The girls had envied her and the guys had treated her like a "bro". People used to ask her for autographs. Everyone thought she would go far. _Yet I threw all away for love_.

Stumbling out of the club onto the wet pavement, she was just crossing the parking lot to get to her car when she heard the roar of an engine and turned just in time to see a car's headlight rush at her.

It slammed into her and rolled over the hood and landed on the pavement, colored dots filled her vision. Faintly, she was aware of the sound of a door slamming.

"Oh my God," came a voice. _Sounds like that British bastard_. "What did you do?"

"Not my fault. She came out of nowhere, mon cher," came another. There voices came from far away and she knew they were kneeling around her.

She smelled blood. _Mine?_

"We need to get her to a hospital. Call an ambulance," the other said.

"Ba...," she tried to say.

"She's trying to speak," the British one said, leaning over her. "What is it?"

"Bas...stard," she muttered, managing to flash him the finger before she passed out. _See ya in hell_.

#

_"Ivan, I m-," Amelia began, but she was cut off as another girl rushed over, gushing over Ivan's new uniform. Ivan was on the basketball team. _

_ "You're so cool," the cheerleader said. Amelia looked the girl up and down, sighing at how different they were physically. Amelia had on a baggy shirt and baggy military-green pants. She kept her hair short, but had been growing it longer lately. Most thought she was gay which wasn't true at all. She definitely liked men._

_ Sticking her hand in her pocket, she felt the small box where she had Ivan's chocolates the ones she had made personally for him. Valentine's day was around the corner. More girls came to admire the basketball team's star player and Amelia started to turn away._

It's not use. He wouldn't want a girl like you_. _

_ It was true they'd shoot some hoops together and were neighbors and friends since childhood, but people changed. They grew up. They grew different._

_ "Amelia," Ivan called and she turned around to see him, nod at her. "Will we play tonight?"_

_ She grinned ear to ear. _He remembered me_. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world," she called. Her heart soaring at the prospect of seeing Ivan then. He did care. She walked away, almost floating. She'd give him the chocolate tonight._

And every night for as long as we both live. I'll love Ivan forever.

_Amelia was sure she'd never love anyone else. Ever._

_#_

She moaned, her head pounding like someone had put a ton of bricks on it. "Oh God," she moaned, wanting to die. The events of the pass few days washed over her. In reality, she had taken everything Ivan had still owned in their apartment and throwing it all in the apartment's dumpster. She had been tempted to chuck it in the incinerator, but had worried that evil of his vapors might leak into it and curse the apartment.

The rest she had packed up and left for the owner's to donate to charity. She had kept little from her old live. Too much of it had memories with Ivan stained all over it.

She groaned slowly realizing where she was. _Some kind of hotel?_ _Oh God, I didn't_. She sat up and fell back down, wincing at the pain in her side.

"Oh good, you woke," came a voice beside her. She looked over at the chair to see a man with a shaggy cut of hair. She recognized that brown sweater vest.

"What happened?" She mumbled, trying again to sit up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You broke a rib and maybe more. I bandaged it as much as I could," the man answered.

"Where am I? Why am I here?" She said, examining their bare room. "Did we...?" She trailed off in horror.

"Good Heaven's no," the man sniffed. "Don't you recall anything?"

"I remember being hit by a car," she remarked. _I should sue him._

"And nothing else? You don't recall fighting the ambulance driver and refusing to be taken away because you couldn't afford the medical bill?" the man huffed, crossing his arms. "Even when I offered to cover them."

She frowned, raising an eyebrow. _Remind me not to drink anymore._ Shaking her head, she shrugged. "You even refused to let me and my friend take you to the hospital and then when we tried to take you, you passed out again and vomited in my car," the man continued icily.

"So then why am I in a hotel now?" The room was just the bed, the cushioned chair the man sat it and a bunch of cardboard boxes all around.

"This isn't a hotel," the man replied, blushing and looking annoyed. That unibrow was crinkled in annoyance. "This is my home."

"Dude, hotel's are better furbished then this," she muttered, glancing around.

"I just moved to America," the man admonished. "And already that frog burdens me with his problems. Absolutely dreadful. I just couldn't leave you without checking your injuries. I did go to medical school for several years. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of bandaging you. Your rib is broken, I believe, which is why you need to go to a hospital and stop being so fuzzy."

"Look, don't worry about me, dude," she said. _I've been driven into turf many times by linebackers. I can take being hit by a car._ She winced when she tried to get out of bed though.

She sniffed, crinkling her nose. "Is something burning?_"_

His face changed from annoyance to alarm. "My scones!" He cried and took off running for the door at the other side of the room. She heard him running down a hall and then the sound of a fire extinguisher and yells of, "My scones! Oh my dear scones!"

_What have I gotten myself into?_ She wondered, touching her bandaged torso.

(**Next up: **Chapter 4: Valentine Massacre. A strange deal gets formed and Amelia comes to work for Arthur. At the same time, Ivan gets curious what Amelia's been up to especially as Valentine's day is approaching and he won't be receiving anything this year from her...)


	4. Valentine Surprise

**Valentine Surprise**

"Oi, is your head filled with bricks?" Arthur called. He stood in the doorway, holding a tray with a porcelain teacup on it. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I'm fine," she said, wincing as a stab of pain shot through her side. She set a box down and turned back to the stack on her left.

"Who gave you permission to move those?"

"So you don't want them arranged so it's easier to unpack?"

"I can do that myself."

"No offense, but you're not exactly Mr. Muscle."

He look unamused. "All right, She-Hulk. Move them. Clearly your rib must not be broken after all."

"I just don't want to mooch." Arthur was letting her rest here a few days.

"You're not." He set the tray on her bedside table. Steam wafting up from the tea. "My friends owes you. He should be taking care of you. Speaking of the Frog," he said, his nose crinkling in distaste, "If you really want a task, I have one."

OOO

She gaped at the lobby. Rose pink marble flooring and pillars. A half-circle desk at the back where a red-headed receptionists sat. She raised a skeptical eyebrow as Amelia approached.

"I'm here to see Francis Bonnefrey," Amelia announced, holding up a box in pink wrapping paper and adorned with lace.

"Gifts should be left here," The woman said, in a bored tone. "I'll see your chocolate delivered."

"Chocolates?" She recalled Arthur's words, _Take this back and shove it down his filthy throat!_ Mulling over it, she blurted out, "It's Valentine's Day!"

"Aren't you a bright one?" The receptionists remarked, lifting one well-tweaked eyebrow. "Isn't that why you brought him chocolates?"

"These aren't from me!" Amelia gasped, offended at the thought. "They're from Arthur Kirkland." She held up the label that Mr. Bonnefrey had written in curvy writing: _To my beloved, Arthur Kirkland. Sweets for the sweet amour._

The lady's eyebrows shot up. "Arthur Kirkland?" She smiled.

"Well, they're not exactly from him. They're from the frog - I mean Mr. Bonnefrey - to him, but Mr. Kirkland is sending them back."

"Is he now? Well, in that case, you can go up," Her hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. "Twenty-first floor. You can't miss it." She pointed toward a set of two gold-colored elevator doors.

"Thank you," Amelia said, heading to the elevators. One opened with a ping and she almost gagged at the wave of thick potpourri and perfume that scented it.

"Say hi to Mr. Bonnefrey for me," The lady called with a wink, disappearing behind the doors.

_What a weird place._

Studying the box, her heart faltered a little. _If last week had never happened I'd be presenting chocolates to Ivan._ She'd made him chocolates every year since Junior High.

_I was such an idiot._

The door pinged open and she stepped out into room that took up the whole floor. Her mouth fell open, gaping. Her footsteps echoed over the linoleum. Pillars divided it up in rows. Massive arched windows at the back showed the cityscape. Everywhere were mannequins dressed in outfits or that had scraps of cloth pinned to them by needles. Tables full of sketches and sewing machines and rolls of fabric.

Somewhere in the back, chair wheels squeaked over the floor and a french-accented voice called, "Who is it? I ordered no disturbances!"

"Arthur sent me," she shouted back, heading for the voice. She heard him stand up and walked toward her.

"Arthur Kirkland?" He appeared from around a pillar dressed in a frilly white-shirt and a pair of beige slacks. "Ah, the mademoiselle from last night."

"And the man who ran over me."

He glanced at the box in her hands. "Chocolates for me? Clearly, I must have _impacted_ you."

She tossed them at him and he caught them. "There're from Arthur. He said he wants you to choke on them. And not send him any more chocolate."

"Ah, Francis sighed. "When will he stop denying our love?"

"Oh, is he gay?"

"Sadly, no," Francis replied, "But when such beauty is before him how can he not be tempted."

_I can think of a dozen reasons._

"So this is all yours?" She said, gesturing around.

"My studio," he agreed. "I'm a designer."

"Of mannequins?"

He stared at her flatly. "Of clothing. Haven't you heard of _Bonnefrey?_" When she shook her head, he gasped and clutched at his chest. "Such ignorance."

She ignored that comment, studying a nearby pale pink vanity. Its top crowded with make-up and hairstyling products. "So you bring models here?" Her eyes drifted to a mannequin in a sleek black dress.

"You have good bone structure," he noted, studying her up and down. "And high cheekbones. You could be beautiful."

She snorted with laughter. "Only if I put a bag over my head with a picture of Angelina Jolie."

He frowned, his lips pursing. "You think you're ugly?"

"I _know_ I'm ugly," she said with a shrug. "I don't care. I mean just because someone looks like a pig doesn't mean they can't enjoy rolling around in the mud."

He sniffed. "You did look like Ronald McDonald at that club last night." She frowned. "Has no one ever taught you how to apply make-up?"

She rubbed at her nape. "Nah, I was never a make-up girl. Putting it on me was like putting lipstick on a pig."

He gasped. "Oh this will not do. Just because you have a dreadful sense of fashion, manner, speech, and style does not mean you're ugly."

"Uh... thanks. I guess?"

"It is decided!" He clasped his hands, his blue eyes glinting. "Sit down. I will transform you!"

OOO

_That can't be me._

It had to be trick. But when she touched her cheek, the woman in the reflection touched hers. When she blinked so did the woman. The beautiful woman.

_It can't be._

She wore a wig, dark blonde hair spun up in an updo, held up with a gold leaf hairpin. Diamond earrings glittered in her earlobes. Pearly-white glitter sprinkled across her cheeks, accentuating the layer blue colors of her eye shadow. She'd never realized had long her eyelashes were until now. Her lipstick was dark red.

_My glasses._

She felt naked without them. Francis had made her dig around in her backpack for her contacts. She hardly wore them. Too lazy too.

"And now the dress," Francis said.

Her eyes widened when he gestured to the sleek black one. "I can't wear that!"

"Why not? I can adjust it. I sew fast. One must when one works the fashion shows I have."

"What's the point? I'll just take it off."

"Oh no. I already informed my secretary earlier to extend an invitation for you to tonight's Lover's World Meeting."

"The what?"

"A Valentine's Day party for the elite. Quite a bore. I wanted Arthur to go with me," Francis pouted, "But you'll do. Though he'd look better in a dress."

_Fair point._

"I don't know anything about dancing," she began, cut off when he placed a forefinger on her lips.

"Hush now." She was tempted to bite his finger. _Don't hush me._ "Arthur will be there."

He pulled his hand away. "Didn't you just say he wouldn't?"

"As my partner, no. Watch, mon ami," he said, whipping out his I-phone. A moment later it was ringing. When it clicked to message, Francis said, "Ah _Mon cheris!_ You must be wilting from lack of my beauty. Trouble yourself no longer! For tonight, I will tell the world of our undying love at the Lovers World Meeting Ball!" She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifler her laughter. "And then I'll announce our Wedding Date. 'Til then _amour_." He may a kissing sound and hung up.

She burst out laughing, clutching at her side.

"Hell will not stop Arthur from being there," Francis said.

"I gotta see this," she admitted. Francis took her hand and kissed her top knuckle.

"My Lady."

_Rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful. Could be fun. What's the worse that could happen. _

OOO

"Ivan."

He turned to see Yao looking up at him. "You need to socialize, not sulk in the corner." She wore an emerald-green dress, pinned at one sleeve by material bunched up in a flower shape. A ruby hairpin tied up her black hair in a bun and matched with her ruby earrings and wine-red lipstick.

"That's your gift, da," he said, curling his upper lip at the smell of the wine in his glass. _No vodka?_

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. She went back to where the mayor and several big wigs stood, chatting near the buffet area. Their relationship had cooled since the "incident". Somehow not being a forbidden affair had killed the whole thing for both sides.

"A chocolate, sir," said a waiter, holding up a tray. After one foul look from Ivan he shrunk in fear and hurried away.

"Chocolate," he muttered, sipping his wine. He'd received plenty of chocolates today from the female co-workers in his office. All store bought stuff. Yao had even given him some liquor-filled ones. All bought.

_No idiot to make heart-shaped-hamburger ones._ Not that he cared.

He'd called their old apartment last week only to find the phone line disconnected. Then he called management - wanting to tidy up legal matters - only to learn she'd cancelled her contracted and moved out.

_Why did I leave it all in her name?_

_Oh, that's right. So it'd be easier to be rid of her._

He'd never thought of the downside that it'd make getting rid of his stuff that much easier.

Not that he cared.

It was nice coming to his office and _not_ having obnoxious messages on his answering machine sung in some jingle.

_I'm much happier now without that loud idiot._

"I hope I never see her again," he muttered.

There was stir from the back of the room. It rippled toward his corner as people said things like, "Francis is here!", "I so love his designs!", and "Look at her! Who is that?"

_Francis brought a woman?_

That was surprising. The murmurs increased as the crowd broke apart, revealing Francis and his partner. Ivan only glanced over in mild curiosity, but his heart nearly stopped at _what_ he saw. His wine glass almost dropped.

The woman at Francis side was a vision. She smiled radiantly. Her black dress accentuated her athletic frame and fell to just below the knees. It made her muscular figure somehow feminine.

People whispered and pointed.

_Impossible._

Her blue eyes turned to his direction and stopped on him, recognition filling them. Her smile faltered, falling away.

_Amelia?_

(TBC...

Next chapter preview:

A stunning Amelia has now appeared before Ivan. Things get complicated with Arthur's arrival...)


	5. Valentine Massacre: Take Aim

** Valentine Massacre: Take Aim**

_Ivan._

A lump formed in her throat. Her grip on Francis' sleeve tightened. "Mon cher?" He asked.

_What do I do?_ Ivan glared at her, setting down his wine, he strode towards them. Mind racing, she forced the lump down. She halted, legs like lead. _Do something!_ She could feel Francis concern.

Ivan was worming through the guests. _He's coming. Think Amelia. Think._

Then it struck her. "Francis," she whispered, leaning toward his ear. "No matter what. You must call me Lana."

"Eh?" He said.

"Just do it!" she hissed.

"Francis," Ivan intoned, holding out a hand.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" Amelia squealed, jumping up and down. Ivan's smug expression became shock. She waved at herself as if overcome. "Good Lord, Francis. Is this Ivan Braginisky? Why yer' just the most handsome thing ever!"

Ivan's looked horrified. Amelia's toothy grin widened. She glanced at an equally surprised Francis. "Well, aren't you gonna introduce me?" She said, sticking out her hand. "Lana McDoogal, at your service," she said, eyeing Ivan up and down. She basked in his confusion. "I'm from Beaumont, Texas. Francis here just invited me. Ain't that right?"

Francis nodded. "Eh, Ivan this is Lana?"

"Yeehaw!" Amelia laughed, shaking Ivan's hand vigorously so much so he lost a step. His eyes bulged in shock. "I hear they call you Vanya." His eyes lit with anger. _ Bingo._ She knew he hated when anyone but his sisters called him that.

"Who told you that?" he demanded.

"Sweet Jesus, did I offend you?" She scrunched up her face as if about to cry. "Oh, Lordie I did it again." She dabbed at her face. "Was I not supposed to call him that in public?" She asked Francis, elbowing him when he took too long to answer.

"Eh," Francis managed.

"Your taste in companions is remarkable as always," Ivan commented._ I want to punch him._ Amelia kept her toothy grin pasted to her face even though inside her heart pounded loudly. Blood roared in her ears. "I thought she reminded me of someone, but that person could not be this unique," Ivan spat.

Francis' expression darkened and his grip on her arm tightened. "And who are you to judge? A rose can bloom in thorns. A delicious apple can hide a rotting core. The loveliest things," Francis eyes looked over Ivan, "Can have the ugliest hearts."

"Oh, I agree. Which is why a rose should be called for what it is and a worm," Ivan all but sneered, "should be told it is. Otherwise, it could forget it's place."

"Monsieur Vanya, your words radiate charming as always," Francis countered, "Some are men of few words, but you are a man of few friends."

Ivan looked furious, but before he could retort, Francis was pulling Amelia away. He squeezed her hand. He spoke loud enough for Ivan to hear, "Mon cher, I must freshen up," he flicked his hair, "Will you help me?"

"Oh of course!" She said, forcing herself to giggle. She chewed on her lower lip to hide how it trembled. "I'll see you later," she waved at an already bored Ivan who looked away in disgust.

_Don't cry. Don't cry._

By the time they reached the powder room, the tears were already coming. She felt ashamed that just seeing Ivan had gotten to her. "This is the women's," she managed, tears starting to fall.

"Oui," Francis agreed, sitting Amelia down in front of a cushioned bench in front of a vanity. She kept her eyes anywhere but the mirror. "Tell me what happened. Why Lana?"

"I'm messing up the mascara," she muttered, wiping away her tears. "I knew this would never work."

"Never mind that," Francis said, opening his coat to reveal hidden pockets, he pulled out a compact, a brush, and other items. "That's what touch-ups are for, no?"

"You keep that under your coat?" she almost laughed.

"One must always be prepared," he said, taking a tissue from the tissue box on the vanity. He dabbed at Amelia's face. "Now what happened?"

"When you hit me," Amelia began, "that night I was at the bar. I was trying - still am trying to get over someone. A man who broke my heart."

"Ivan?" Francis said, "You and him?" He sounded shocked.

"Yeah, silly right? He used me like a servant and then threw me away like one throws trash," she said, the words ringing in her ear._ I feel sick._ "Its like pieces of my shattered heart are scattered and lost everywhere. It'll never be whole again."

He placed a warm palm on her cheek and smiled. "Hearts are stronger than that. And yours will be whole again. Trust me."

She looked away, shaking her head. "Impossible. I almost broke down just seeing him. How will I go through the whole evening playing Lana? I have to go," she started to get up, but Francis grabbed her shoulder, pushing her back down.

"Mon cher," he said, his blue eyes looking at her. "You have two choices. You can go home and cry. Or you can stay here and refuse to let him hurt you. You can be steel and wear that dress like armor. Your beauty will be your shield."

"I'm not beautiful."

"And I'm not gorgeous," running a finger through his golden locks. His face saying, _as if._ "Are you truly going to let that man control your life? To let you flee here with your tails between your legs and your head down?"

She frowned. "I'm not...," she trailed off. I am. I'm scared. "I'd prefer a baseball bat to a dress." He chuckled. "And these heels are killing my feet. You should try wearing heels."

"I have and I look fabulous in them," he said, standing up and holding out his hand. "Now who are you tonight?"

"Lana," she said, taking it and letting herself be pulled up.

"And does Lana, as you Americans say, take shit?"

"Not a chance in hell," she said. "Let's kick his ass."

Francis smiled. "Attagirl," he said, his accent making it awkward.

~OOO~

"Arthur, my love~" Francis called. Amelia turned from her spot at the buffet table in time to see Arthur dressed in the same sweater vest and khakis from this morning marching over, hands in fists. "I was just about to announce our eng-"

Francis was cut off, by Arthur grabbing him by the front of his black tuxedo and dragging their face with in inches of each other. "I'll kill you Frog," Arthur grated. Francis smiled and then, quick as lightening, gave Arthur a peck on his nose. Arthur turned bright red, his face transforming into a snarl. "Frog!"

Francis grabbed Amelia's arm, her other hand held a tray of cheese and cracker snacks, and shoved her between them. "This is Lana."

Arthur's murderous expression instantly changed to embarrassment. He blushed from head to toe, not meeting her eyes, but she could see him scoping her out with side glances.

_You're kidding._

Swallowing another cracker, she wiped her hand on her dress and stuck out a hand. "Howdy. Why you must be the Arthur Francis kept talking about," she said. Arthur took her hand, looking about to faint. "Congratulations on the wedding."

Arthur froze, his left eye twitching slightly. She heard him mutter under his breath, "Stupid Frog." He shook her hand, straightening his sweater vest. "Er," he coughed. "Francis, never mentioned you."

"Surely you remember me," Amelia gave her best aghast tone. "Francis introduced us already."

Arthur's face took on a puzzled look, he was clearly combing his memories for her.

Francis winked at Amelia and she nodded ever so slightly. "That's right, mon amor! How could you forget her? Christmas last year? You came to visit. I took such pains to introduce her."

"Er, my deepest apologies," Arthur said.

Picking up her wine glass from the table behind her, she saw Ivan's reflection. He's glaring at me again. Well, she wouldn't let him ruin her evening with his cold, suspicious looks.

_Hearts are stronger._

Hooking an arm through Arthur who looked about to die of happiness, she said to Francis, Mind if I borrow your fiancee?"

"He's not my fiancee!" Arthur snapped, glaring at Francis. "Stop spreading lies, Frog! I'm not, I repeat not gay! And if I was I wouldn't date that thing!" Arthur pointed at Francis.

"So you admit you do think about it," Francis sighed, but Amelia was already leading a flummoxed Arthur away, while she carried the cracker tray with other hand.

"Cracker?" She offered, holding the tray closer to Arthur, "They're delicious."

Arthur shook his head, his eyes wide as saucers. His face seemed to redden further as she held his arm. She smiled, remembering his rude comments at the bar. _Time for some revenge. _

She pressed closer so that her boob was just slightly pressed against his arm. He swallowed hard, his eyes trained ahead. _ Let's see what can we talk about? Oh I know! _

"Do you like football?" she asked.

"Of course!" He agreed. "What Englishman doesn't?"

_He better not be a Steeler's fan,_ she thought sourly. _I wonder how British play football. _

And as they walked, arms locked toward the outside veranda, she could not help but feel Ivan's gaze, staring daggers into her back. She grinned wider and tittered louder.

The night was far from over.

(TBC...

Next chapter preview:

A suspicious Ivan reveals Lana's secret...)


	6. Valentine Massacre: Bang

**Valentine Massacre: Bang**

"And then as I was using the lift..."

_There it is again. _

Arthur using strange words. Amelia had begun to feel sorry for him. To her horror, it turned out that Arthur had a language problem. He believed "soccer" was called "football". He insisted words like "color" had an extra "u" in them.

_Pretty sad actually_, she thought, nodding and pretending to listen as he droned on. She spotted Ivan in the corner talking to Yao. She wanted to feel amused, but really she felt anxious about confronting him.

_Yao is here too._

Yao had not recognized her anymore than Arthur had. But Ivan... _did I fool him?_

"And you look rather elegant I must say," Arthur said, his face red - even his ears. His voice went high as he said that and he looked away as if just that compliment was him going out on a limb.

That was another thing she'd noticed. Arthur was dreadful at flirting. _And I thought I had problems._ Yet at the same time she found it cute the way he avoided looking at her and if they touched, like her handing him a cracker, he'd blush head to toe.

_Speaking of crackers..._

She reached for one, only to find the tray empty. "Oh no," she said as if this was a disaster.

Arthur paused and coughed, saying, "Those trays are for everyone."

"Me holding it doesn't stop them from taking some." She grinned and gave a thumbs up. He just stared at her flatly.

_Why does it feel like the left side of my face is burning?_ She glanced over to see Ivan glaring, an eerie child-like grin on his face. He looked like a kid who discovered some naughty secret. He turned away. _What's he up to?_

She threw her eyes back to Arthur who had tilted his head to the side as if seeing something. Once her eyes were back on him, he went red-faced again.

Tugging at his collar, he practically yelped, "Is it hot?"

She smiled. "Feels a little warm."

"Y-you remind me of someone," Arthur stammered, keeping his eyes fixed on some spot behind her. "This American I'm helping. She's a bit of a dolt."  
><em>Dolt?<em>

Amelia's lips tightened, but Arthur must have misread the signs because he continued, "Oh don't worry. You're far better-looking than her. To be honest I thought she was a boy when I first met her."

_Did he just insult me and compliment me at the same time?_

"But she's really strong. Rather frightening. Like a lioness."

"Arthur," Amelia said and he stopped.

Swallowing, he asked, "Y-yes."

"Bite me," she said and stamped on his foot, shoving the empty tray against him. He yelped and blinked, but she whirled around and stormed off.

_Men!_

She went to a part of the buffet table in a corner of the room behind a rose marble pillar. Feeling the need for some privacy, she stood with her back to the party and grabbed a glass from the metal tray and scooped punch into it before grabbing snacks off the food tray and munching on them.

"That idiot," she grumbled under breath, scarfing some sausage things. She pushed it down with a swig of tangy punch. She leaned her shoulder against the wall.

Lost in her thoughts some movement in her vision made her look up at the window that had the night skyline of the city. She just saw in the reflection who was standing behind her.

_Ivan!_

And then his hands slammed into the wall on either side of her, his arms caging her in. He loomed over her, that eerie grin on his face. His eyes narrowed. "Lana, da?" He asked, his shadow falling over her. "Privyet."

She gulped the punch in her mouth down and plastered on a grin. He leaned close enough for her to smell the mix of mint and wine on his breath. _Wine? Could he not find Vodka?_

"Ivan hun' you're a little close," she laughed, trying to hide her nervousness.

"But I made you squeal earlier," Ivan said in a sultry way. Lana didn't like how they were hidden behind the pillar.

_I could duck under. I could thrown the drink at him._

She ran through several scenarios, but she decided what Lana would do._ I'll face this._

"Oh you silly boy. I'm just so flustered."

"Really. That's so enticing," he closed her in. "Why are you so nervous? How about a kiss?"

She froze._ I'd rather pull out my teeth._ It hit her the unfairness. There was a time not long ago she'd have pulled off her teeth just for a kiss form Ivan. Now she felt sickened at the thought.

"I saw that the pathetic British man practically slobbering over you. You must've loved the male attention."

She scowled at him. Even her best grin couldn't cover it up. His eyes narrowed.

"You remind me of someone. She was a naive girl," he said. "She loved movies like Surek."

"Shrek," she corrected, wincing that it slipped out.

His grin widened. "Da."

She felt the glass crack in her hand and forced herself to lighten her grip.

"She fantasized that fairy tales came true. That the if the ugly princess was kind enough that people could see behind the monster. That Beauty and the Beast stories really happened," he said, his face taking up her vision. "But never understood that in this world ugly tomboys never win."

_Ugly tomboys? Is that what he thought of me?_

"Kindness wins in the end," she insisted, feeling sick. "Beauty is in the eye of the-"

"Beholder," he finished and she realized she'd given herself away. He giggled. "Hello, Amelia," he breathed. "Who dressed you up? That French disease?"

"None of your business," she said.

"That was quite an act. You thought if you dressed up you could be one of the beautiful. But we both know better."

His words hurt. _Like a knife._

He leaned so close she could feel his breath on his lips. "Admit it, whatever you do, it's all for me. You're my dog."

"Stop," she said, not moving.

He leaned in for the kiss, whispering, "You are mine."

TBC...


	7. Smoking Gun

Valentine Massacre: Smoking Gun

When Arthur first noticed Ivan leaning over Lana, he felt a pang of hurt and jealousy, sure she was flirting with Ivan. He stayed rooted behind a marble pillar of the fancy ballroom, tray of cheese crackers in hand - an apology gift for Lana - unable to still his beating heart. Of all his mistakes, he just knew he'd regret pissing her off.

Sometimes he wanted to punch his lips to stop them from saying the wrong things. Now he'd missed his chance and that devil, Ivan, had seized it. Was it the sweater vest? He shouldn't have been so hasty running out the door and stopped to put on something more fashionable like a bow-tie.

It was always like this. Every time he saw a girl he fancied, she'd fall for someone else - like one of his obnoxious brothers. Arthur nearly dropped the tray when Ivan leaned even closer. _They'll be making out in public at this rate!_ Feeling scandalized and rejected, Arthur turned to go until a word caught his ear.

"Amelia". While he'd only caught a couple words of their conversation that one popped out. Suddenly, realization crashed over Arthur as all the pieces assembled in his head. All the things she and Francis had said like they had some inside joke going on. _Bollocks! That's Amelia._

Risking being seen, he peeked out further from the pillar and, instead of Amelia gazing dreamily up at Ivan with a come-hither expression, she looked repulsed and frightened of him.

_She's in trouble._

And, without thinking things through, Arthur sprang into action.

OOO

Although Amelia put on a strong face, inside she had deep doubts and insecurities about herself, cracks that she hid with wallpaper or plaster. Ivan had hit every weakness with devastating accuracy, snipers would be jealous, and rooted her to the spot.

Before she could think to move, his poisonous lips almost met hers. A hand shot between them and Ivan kissed someone's knuckles. With widened eyes and the fleeting satisfaction of Ivan's smug face transforming into fury, she looked to see an annoyed Arthur had rushed in beside her.

"She already has a partner," he said, throwing his arm over Amelia's shoulders and pulling her against him.

"Hiding behind his fop?" Ivan sneered, towering over a defiant Arthur. It was then that she snapped to her senses, lifted her skirt, and kicked Ivan's shin. A pity she didn't want to rip the dress, because otherwise she would've hit him in his crown jewels.

He gasped in pain, eyes bulging and stepped back and a stunned-looking Arthur stepped in front of her. "Amelia?"

_Ah, so he knows. 'Bout time he recognized me._

After taking in the staring eyes around, Ivan, though clearly furious, reigned in his temper. She had once admired his self-control. "You both deserve each other. You and this weakling!"

"I beg your pardon," Arthur harrumphed, drawing himself up. "I'll have you know I was champion of my Rugby team in primary school."

_Rugby? What the hell is that?_ She raised a quizzical eyebrow. But the way Arthur said it, he clearly meant it to be intimidating.

Ivan threw his head back, laughing, and making a gesture of wiping tears from his eyes. "What a joke." Her jaw set. After all she'd done for him, he stood there acting like it was what made her pathetic. So many words stuck in her throat that they wouldn't come out. All her rage and hurt lay trapped in her chest, coiling about her heart, and robbing her of strength.

None of it ever mattered to him. And that hurt gave Ivan emotional control over her. She hated that, but she couldn't say what she needed to free herself from it. Tears of frustration threatened her eyes.

_Scream how you hate him_, she told herself. But it was no good, because deep down he still affected her. Years of dreaming for his kiss, his love, could not be so easily shed.

"Let's go," Arthur said.

"She's a good servant," Ivan said to Arthur. "Not sexy, but she'll cook your dinner and clean your toilet. All with a stupid grin on her face."

"You rat," Arthur spat.

Amelia drew in a breath, mouth opening to force something out before the emotions exploded from her, when the voice of Francis interrupted, "And what do we have here? A party that I wasn't invited to? What a bad touch!"

"Not now, Frog," Arthur said, shooing him away.

Understanding flit across Francis' face as he came beside them. "I must admit, Francis," Ivan began, "You're work is exquisite. That you could make a pig like this look good with lipstick," gesturing at Amelia.

"Bastard!" Arthur growled and launched at Ivan, throwing a punch that Ivan caught with his palm. Panic fluttered across Arthur's face as he struggled to free himself.

"You call this a punch? We'd call you a toddler in Moscow," Ivan said, eyes narrowing. "I used to beat up men twice your size on the streets of Moscow." He squeezed Arthur's hand and Arthur gasped, sinking to one knee.

"Stop being a jerk," Amelia said, she placed on hand on each of their shoulders, trying to pull them apart. "If you can."

"I suggest you let go, Ivan," Francis said, stepping up with his glass of red wine jostling in his hand. "I don't know how they do it on the streets of Moscow, but here fighting is not permitted.  
>"He struck first. Have I no right to defend myself?"<p>

Still trying to push them apart, Amelia snapped, "You provoked him! Artie was defending me."

"Artie?" Ivan said, his nose crinkling in disgust. He let go and stepped back. "How do you two know each other anyway?"

"None of your business. Just leave us alone!"

"Us?" Ivan glanced between them and then giggled, "You must be desperate."

Jumping ahead of Arthur, Amelia said, "Ivan." The words tasted like bile. Poison that need to be emptied before it destroyed her. Most of it wouldn't come, but she found enough to retort, "I regret ever thinking you had a good side." Then her vision blurred and she turned and stormed away, hot tears running down her cheeks.

_I hope he didn't see._

She dashed out of there, worming through the crowd. She heard Arthur yell, "Amelia! Wait!"

_What a fool I was! Nothing but a pig in lipstick!_

She hurried out.

TBC...


	8. Chasing Hearts

**Chasing Hearts**

Francis didn't have to say it, he knew Arthur could read it in his baby blues that whispered, "Go after her."

With a nod, Arthur disappeared into the crowd that had gathered around, calling, "Amelia!"

Francis sipped his wine, turning back to Ivan who seemed to be waking from his stupor. _Now this is amusing_, he thought. When Ivan moved to follow as well, Francis demurely stepped in his way and said, "You've caused enough of a spectacle, mon cher. It'd be bad to worsen thing for such a promising prospect as yourself."

"Do not badger me," Ivan warned, his hands curling into fists.

"Cold-hearted Ivan has a temper? I'm astounded. Of course, I'm also shocked that you'd lose it over some simple American girl and drive the poor lass to tears." While Ivan's features smooth into a neutral expression, Francis could read a deeper shock in them as if Amelia's tears had affected him. Odd. Pressing the matter, Francis added, "Tell me, do you always try to convince lovely lasses they're ugly and worthless?"

Ivan snickered. "I did nothing of the sort. She's merely sensitive."

"Ha!" Francis chuckled. "That's like saying your subtle. Or calling getting hit by a train as a minor injury."

"I'm merely honest."

"No one is ever honest about jealousy and amor."

"Jealousy? Me?" Ivan guffawed, making a show of how ridiculous he thought Francis' words were. "Of that pig? As if!"

Francis smiled, dabbing at his lower lip with a lacy handkerchief, "If you were truly honest, you'd admit how beautiful she was and that the ugly one was not her." He stared very poignantly at Ivan.

Ivan's eyes narrowed, his lips contorting into a small smile. He looked ready to retort, but instead turned on his heel and stormed away.

_Oh, this is getting saucy,_ Francis thought, heading to find better company.

OOO

After marching out the glass doors of the lobby, Amelia headed for a courtyard with a stone fountain. There was a bus stop further past it. Honestly, she had no idea where she would go, but it would be as far from here as possible.

Hugging herself and rubbing her arms for warmth, Amelia lamented forgetting to grab the heavy coat that Francis had lent her. But she'd rather risk illness than go back inside.

"Amelia!" Arthur called. He caught up to her just at the fountain, grabbing her shoulder, he huffed and panted, gasping for air, "Please wait."

_He's out of shape._

Rounding on him, Amelia snapped, "And what do you want? Come here to pity me?"

"I don't know what's going on between you and Ivan, but I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. He's not worth it. Just a wanker."

"Thanks for stating the obvious!" she said, looking away. What was a wanker? "I know all that. Deep down, I always knew. But when you pour so much of yourself into something, it's hard to let go. His every word used to make me happy once. Whenever, we'd bump or get a little skin contact - usually by accident - my heart would flutter and I'd think of it for days, praying for more. So when he does that and says such nasty things, it's hard. Too hard."

"Wait... are you and Ivan... were you?"

"We were nothing. It was all in my head. I saw him as the love of my life. He saw me as a servant. That is all," she said, downcast. "Tell Francis, I'm sorry. And thank him for this. I'll return it soon," she patted at the dress.

"Thank him yourself. I'm not your messenger boy."

"I'm not going back there."

"Perfect," Arthur said, holding out an upraised palm. He bowed and said, "Because I despise fancy balls. Now where shall we go?"

"McDonalds?"

His thick eyebrows drooped. With a heavy sigh and through words that were a little forced, he said, "I suppose if that is what you want. Any burger place will do."

"Really?" She grinned. "You'll eat it?"

"Well, it won't be the same as a pub, but I can manage. I have so far. My treat," he said with a wink. He eyed his palm expectantly. "Shall we?"

She accepted his hand, their fingers entwining as his interwove with her gloved digits. "We shall."

OOO

After cornering a member of the kitchen staff in the hall and warning him to find vodka or else, Ivan now had a bottle of it that he kept emptying into his wine glass. It was amazing what a little intimidation could get you. People became eager to please when under duress.

_My only regret is ever thinking you had a good side._

"Stupid bitch," he muttered, chugging back more of the burning liquid. He winced as it sent fire threw his veins. He huddled here in a corner of the ballroom, back pressed against the wall, staring out the windows down into the courtyard.

Her words echoed into his head, but it was her tears that had frozen him. Amelia had only cried once before him and that was..._ after her mother died._

Yao had long ago given up on telling Ivan not to drink so much and gone back to flitter around like a social butterfly. She was talented at smoothing things over and well, many things actually.

As he gazed at the fountain, the glass in his hand suddenly cracked. He looked down, as liquid dripped onto his thumb. He hadn't realized how tense his grip was. But it kept playing over and over again.

Ivan had seen them cavorting around the fountain. Her and that British upstart had left, walking hand-in-hand, out of the fountain plaza. Smiling and laughing, while she twirled around him.

_Whore..._

A possessive feeling struck him.

_She is mine._

Smugly, he remembered how he'd affected her. It didn't matter if it was love or hate. As far as he was concerned both gave the same result: you were first and foremost in the person's mind. A hating heart or a loving heart thinks only of the target of that feeling.

_And as long as I'm largest in her heart._

Amelia would never replace him. He wouldn't allow it.

Ever.

TBC...


	9. A Night For Hearts

**A Night For Hearts**

Although watching Arthur nibble down a quarter-pounder - that's right nibble because he believed in "etiquette" - and cut his chicken nuggets into dainty bites with a plastic knife and fork had been amusing, Amelia was enjoying Chips and Fish, the British-like pug Arthur had brought her to, far more. And with every new shot of tequila or whisky, it became even more entertaining.

Now Arthur had forbid her from drinking anymore and even confiscated the black leather purse that Francis had lent her. It was a Prada, or so Francis had said. But it was okay because Arthur was teaching her darts.

"Now aim like so," he said, adjusting her arm, shoulders, and even her hips with his warm hands. "And try to get it on the board this time."

"I added air holes," she defended. She'd only added a few pinprick holes around the wall and maybe one on the ceiling. The physics of that one had blown Arthur's mind. "I got this." She squinted, tongue peeking out of the side of her mouth. "I'm gonna feel the force like Luke Skywalker. And you can be Yoda."

"I'm not some old, crusty alien."

She smiled as she pulled her hand back and threw. Bullseye. Her jaw dropped in shock and, with fists pumping in the air, she yelled, "HOLY SHIT! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" She jammed a forefinger into Arthur's chest, "I am the man! Thank you Yoda. In your face." Then she slumped, falling against him, overwhelmed by dizziness from the alcohol.

"Hey there," Arthur said, catching her and hooking her arm behind his head. "You need to slow it down."

"Not drunk," she slurred, "Just not sober." While he held her up, she pushed him toward the door. Looking at his face, she took in his delicate features: straight-bridge nose upturned at the tip, oval face, and pouty lips. "You really are like a girl."

"And you're like a drunken frat boy," he grumped, "What are you..." They reached the door.

"Leavin'," she said, throwing open the door. A gust of cold wind blew in, slapping their cheeks and needling their skin. "Let's go the arcade."

"Hold on," he said, grabbing her heavy black coat on the wall - he'd run back into the lobby to retrieve it for her - and eased her hands through the sleeves. She allowed it, enjoying the warmth.

"Let's go!" And then she shoved him out and they stumbled down the grimy sidewalk. Sometimes Amelia caused Arthur to fall against the brick walls and other times he guided her away from the road or apologized to passerby she bumped into. "Wah, here!" she said, pointing at the glittery lights of a boardwalk lined with UFO catchers. They stood outside an arcade. Adults, kids, and couples all slipped quarters in to try their luck. Most left disappointed.

"OH MY GOD!" Amelia squealed, untangling herself from Arthur threw herself against a catcher that tilted slightly back from the force of her. With her nose pressed against the glass, she looked at Arthur and tapped a forefinger on it. "I want that one. Win it!" she said, pointing at a white, fluffy mochi doll with a thick unibrow and frown sewn in black threading on its face. "It looks just like you!"

"It d-does not!" Arthur spluttered, turning up his nose.

"But it's so cute," she said. Arthur went quiet and when she glanced back he was beat red. "Are you blushing?"

"N-no!" he said defensively, already digging around in his brown khakis for change. "I'm just very hot is all." He turned out his pockets. "Only pennies."

"I have quarters in my purse," she said, nodding at the strappy black purse hanging from his shoulder.

"But then I'll have to...," he trailed off, eying all the people moving around them.

"It looks better on you than me," she said mournfully. Arthur scowled, but then softened. Probably seeing how crestfallen she was. _Lipstick on a pig_, she thought, her smile faltering. She had no business wearing this fancy clothes and although she knew Francis had just wanted to be nice, she felt cheap, like he'd decorated her. _I have to feel beautiful inside too._ "Please win it for me." Tears were threatening to spill out again.

"Oh bother," Arthur huffed and with a put-out sigh, unzipped it and pulled out a glittery, pink, lacy wallet. "It had to be lace. Not a word of this to Francis." He popped open the change purse and took out several quarters before stuffing the wallet away.

"Got it. Not a word to Francis about how much the purse suits you," she agreed with a little salute.

An unamused Arthur edged her out of the way with a "Move".

"You gotta be careful with these. They're quite hard. I once wasted a billion quarters trying to win...," she stopped, unable to say the rest. ..._win a mochi that looked like Ivan._ "I never got nothing from them."

"Anything," Arthur corrected idly as he cracked his knuckles. Kneeling down, he stared under the catcher and examined it from all angles. The mochi rested on top of a pink unicorn and purple fairy. "That's an adorable unicorn," she thought she heard Arthur mutter under his breath.

"What?"

"N-nothing," he said, blushing a deeper red. After tapping the glass a few more times, he gave a nod of satisfaction, stood up, and pressed the up arrow. The UFO catcher whirred to life and then, button lighting up, moved across until Arthur slammed his finger onto the round button.

Amelia stood on her tips toes, chewing on her lower lip. "This is more exciting than the Super Bowl," she declared.

But Arthur didn't hear her, he seemed lost in his own world, his lips moved, counting under his breath, and then he pressed the side arrow. The catcher inched right, stopped, opened its three prongs, and lowered. It clutched the mochi and it started to lift. "You did...," she trailed off as the toy fell out, landing on the plastic corner of the retrieval bin. "Oh," she said in a deflated voice. "Thanks for trying."

"I'm not done," he said, rolling up the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt, worn beneath his sweater vest. His green eyes held a fierce, determined look of intense concentration.

_Kinda sexy._ Her cheeks heated and she stiffened in shock at what she'd just thought. _It's the alcohol. It's made me silly._ She shook her head.

Arthur slipped two coins in and then catcher machine lit up. After pressing the up arrow, he stopped it, checked several times, and then hit the side. The catcher plummeted, snatched, and... missed.

"It's okay Ar-" As the prongs lifted, they knocked the mochi, causing it to rock and and forth over the edge before it tumbled in. "YOU DID IT!" she squealed in delight, throwing her arms about his neck, she jumped up and down. "Oh thank you! Thank you! That was amaziing! You a UFO champ! You the man!"

"Enough, enough!" he groused, grabbing at her arm. "You're choking me," he gasped.

"Oh, sorry," she said sheepishly, letting go.

Rubbing at his throat, he gave an encouraging smile. "Here," he said, pulling out the mochi and presenting it to her with both hands. "For the lovely lady."

She beamed at him and took it, hugging it tight. "It's soft."

"Happy?" He leaned forward, arms behind his back, and smiled.

With a nod, she hid her grin behind the stuffed toy. "I'll name him Marthu."

"Marthu?" Arthur frowned.

"Short for mochi Arthur."

"I loath and despise it," Arthur said, folding his arms over his chest. But she could see the faint blush on his cheeks and the glint of happiness in his eyes. His thick eyebrows turned down at the side as his tone softened. "Amelia, do you not have a place to go?"

"Let's not ruin this evening," she said, turning away and striding from the boardwalk.

"Amelia, wait," he said, following beside her. He touched her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "Won't you even consider renting my upstairs?" She stopped and looked at him. "My flat's too big anyway. I don't need all the space." He stood there, twiddling his thumbs.

"And what do I have to do? Clean your toilets? Mop your floors? I'll never be anyone's maid again."

"No, no, heaven's no," he said, adjusting the purse strap. "I just want to help. Temporary and all. Maybe a little cleaning," after her dark look, he quickly added, "together. I'll do my part."

"But you barely know me."

"I know enough. I know you're a nice person who's been through a bad spot with that Russian wanker. At least think about it. Answer in a few days."

"All right," she agreed. "I'll think about it." They walked and entered an emptier part of the street. She stuck out a thumb and staggered out into the street. "We need a taxi."

"Wait, bloody hell," he pulled her away as a truck drove by, blaring its horn. "Let's not get hit by a lorry."

"Why are you being so kind?" she said, wiping away tears. "I don't deserve it. Nothin' but a pig with lipstick on like Ivan said. More tears flowed, running into her mouth, they tasted salty. "I'm almost twenty-three. I've no college degree. No skills except delivery and being able to say 'Would you like fries with that?' I threw it all away for him. I denied myself. I've never even been kissed. I was saving myself for that bastard. How dumb was I?"

"Really now," Arthur said, cupping her cheeks, he brushed her tears away with his thumbs. "There's no shame in giving yourself to someone you love. It's beautiful and noble. You were just saving yourself for the right person."

"Prince charming?" she meant it as a joke, but form Arthur's serious face it had a different affect on him.

With a nod, he said, "I can be that," and then kissed her softly, lips partly slightly against hers. She went rigid, blushing from head to toe, overwhelmed by a warm feeling. One hand cradled the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. She felt dizzy. Alive. Pulling back, Arthur gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. Suddenly he looked embarrassed and ashamed. "I'm sorry I shouldn't ha-"

She threw her arms around him and kissed back. I've been missing out. This kiss she noticed so much more, breathing in the scent of Arthur, scones and smoke. Tender fingers kneaded through her hair. It was nothing like she pictured a kiss - with Ivan she'd imagined it rough and brusque.

Although her heart had shattered into a million pieces, she felt one tiny chip fit back into place.

_A beginning._

On a long journey.

TBC...


	10. Lover's Revenge

**Lover's Revenge  
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A cozy warmth had settled around her. She was curled up on some kind of couch, facing a crackling fire. It's orange light danced beyond her closed eyelids. A blanket was wrapped around her and there was a smell in the air. A burning smell like food had been overcooked.

_Is Arthur cooking?_ Came a thought.

Her eyes popped open and she stared a brick fireplace and sat up, glancing around in shock, the quilt slid off her._ Where am I?_ Her mind raced through the fuzzy memories of last night. The last thing she remembered was kissing Arthur and then...

_Oh shit! I kissed Arthur!_ Her first kiss had been to a man she barely knew. Her face felt on fire and she slapped lightly at her cheeks trying to get the blush to stop.

"Amelia? Are you up?" Arthur called, his voice drifting down the hallway from the kitchen. "Breakfast is almost ready!"

That filled her with a sinking sense of horror. She glanced at the window behind her. His flat was three stories up, but it might be better to risk breaking her neck in a fall than to heat whatever Arthur was cooking.

_Should I make a break for the door?_

Adding to her woes was the idea of facing Arthur after last night. She never wanted to go near alcohol again. She stood up and the hangover slammed her, her skull pounding and she sank back down onto the couch, not wanting to move.

Arthur's slippered feet shuffled on the floorboards as he came in balancing a tray with a porcelain teacup decorated with blue flowers on its rim and saucer. There was a plate and something sizzling on it.

"I made bacon and toast for you," Arthur declared happily and set the tray on the coffee table before her.

"Bacon and toast..." she trailed off, staring at the blackened mass before her. The toast looked edible, at least one. She forced a grin, "Just what one needs for a hangover!" She lied. Did Arthur not know anything about hangovers? Was he trying to make her sick? Was this punishment for last night.

"There a little well done," he said, looking away in embarrassment, "But I made them in a shape."

Now that she looked closer she saw the bacon strips were laid out in a heart-shape. A blackened, shriveled heart-shape. Like what her stomach would look like if she ate it.

"How... n-nice," she said in a shaky voice, seriously debating the window escape route.

"I have the shower ready. I know you probably want to clean up after...," he coughed, "last night."

Her whole body jumped several degrees in heat and her heart hammered in her chest. "What h-happened?" she asked weakly. "Did we...?"

He shook his head emphatically, "Oh no, no! I'm a gentleman! I'd never do that to an inebriated lady."

In-bre...what was that?

"Go on, eat up," he smiled.

"Um..." she picked up the toast and bit into the non-burned parts. Arthur stared at her expectantly. "It's... yummy," she said.

"Do you mean it?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah," she swallowed, willing herself not to turn green. Now she wished the blush was back. "I think I need to let it cool first," she said. "You said the shower is ready?"

"Oh yes, this way," he said, standing up. "I left you clean towels and a robe."

She looked down and nearly screamed. She was not in the dress. "Did you change me?" she asked.

"I shut my eyes the whole time," he said, looking mortified. "It's just you threw up and I needed to clean that dress befo-"

"I hurled?" she gasped.

"Only a little," he said. "Most of it got me."

"I hurled on you!" she cried in horror. That was worse. "Oh man."

"Stains are coming right out. The frog will never know any got on that dress... and purse... and shoes."

"Oh God, let me never drink again," she moaned, wanting to beat her head into the drywall. She stared down at the scarlet-red pajamas with unicorn imprints all over. She still at her underclothing on. "Wait," she said, examining herself, "Are these your pajamas?"

"W-what?" he said turning scarlet-red. "Of course not! I'd never dress in something so cute. I'm a man."

"Then why do you have them?"

"They a gift from that frog," he answered. "Such a kidder. Thinking I'd ever wear something like that! As if!" he threw his head back laughing. "Well, you'd better hurry and showed. Hate to waste water."

He put a hand on her shoulder, urging her down the hall. She raised an eyebrow at him and went on her way. But then Arthur paused and looked at her seriously. "Amerlia," he said, "About last night. My offer. I was wondering..."

"If I'll stay?" she said. "Yeah. I'd like to do that."

"Really, but last night?"

"I was drunk. I thought more of what I wanted. Now that I'm sober I can see better what I need. We'll make a contract," she said, "And one day when I'm more financially sound I'll pay everything back."

"You don't ha-"

"I will," she said. "But right now, I need a place to stay."

He nodded and let go. "As long as you like."

_Dangerous words_, she thought, heading down the hall.

_So this is what liking someone mutually feels like?_

She shook her head. "No, he just feels sorry for me," she mumbled. After entering the bathroom, she smiled as she saw a neatly folded cream-colored towel on top of the wicker hamper and a matching robe. The white tiled bathroom looked recently renovated and the shower head hung over a tub with four legs. A sink and mirror were to the right with an oval-shaped, green colored rug. And fairy pictures hung everywhere.

Does Arthur have a thing for fairies? She wondered, undoing the buttons of her pajamas.

When she finished undressing, she stepped into the bath and pulled the green, plastic curtain shut. Pausing, she examined it closer and saw white unicorns in various poses imprinted all over it.

She leaned around the curtain and looked above the pine door to see a plaque that read in gold lettering, "I DO BELIEVE IN FAIRIES" and beneath those were a set of hands clapping.

"Strange," she muttered. Turning on the hot water she nearly shrieked when cold water needled her skin, but it quickly turned too hot and she turned up the cold. Eventually, she found a balance between the hot and cold that was comfortable. "Ah, soap."

Looking at a little basket next to the sink she found two silver bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a pale pink one for body lotion. Almost by instinct she started to rush, to finished as quickly as possible and then stopped herself.

_No_, she decided. _I'll take a leisurely shower._

When she lived with Ivan she always limited herself to showers shorter than ten minutes in the morning because Ivan liked to take long ones and didn't want to get up too early. He'd often complain about her using too much hot waters and making it difficult for his hour long ones. To avoid this she kept her showers as short as possible and kept the water on lukewarm even in winter.

The heater in their bathroom had not been the best so she'd usually walk out with teeth chatter. But it'd been worth it for Ivan or so she believed at the time.

Frowning, she turned up the water hotter having set it to lukewarm by instinct.

_All for that jerk_, she thought bitterly. Her hands curled into fists as she tried to force him out of her head. Maybe if she could just bury the pain and the memories deep down they'd go away. Just choke down all her humiliation and hurt. And then one day maybe she'd forgive herself for being so stupid and allowing it to happen.

_If only I'd listen to my brother that time..._

She swallowed hard, bitter tears stung her eyes. Hot water coursed over her skin, so hot it was almost painful. It ran in steamy rivulets and washed away her salty tears. Slowly she sank down, head bowed, and hugged her legs to her chest. Water poured over her, but it didn't feel like it cleaned her. The stains in her polluted heart could never be cleansed. The wound was still ugly and far from closing.

_Why was I so stupid?_

That question haunted her. But she knew one that hurt worse.

_Why didn't Ivan love me?_

She silently cried, her chest aching from the force of keeping the sobs hidden. But one thought, like a poke of light, lifted her a little.

_Arthur likes you._

"He pities me," she said.

He kissed you and called you beautiful.

"Just being nice." she reminded herself. And even if it was genuine, did it matter? What kind of relationship could they have when she was dependent on his charity? If she ran with her heart like before, she'd make all the same mistakes with Arthur that she did with Ivan. She'd lose herself in her drive to make Arthur happy.

_Arthur will not be Ivan's replacement._

Her grip on her arms tightened, her fingers clenching against her wet skin. She lifted her gaze level to the brass bath faucet.

_I'll stand on my own. I'll define myself. Not by Arthur. Not by Ivan._

If there was to be any hope of real love, equal love, she'd have to pull herself together first. And that meant, she wouldn't be with Arthur until she could take of herself. When I can stand proudly on my own accomplishments, then I'll consider a relationship with Arthur.

But the way seemed long. Her heart was broken in a million pieces.

If it takes a million years...

She would do it.

"Hearts are stronger," she whispered and grabbed the soap.

I must do this alone. And trust no one. No one must ever touch my heart again.

Not even Arthur. Not until...

11111111111111111101111111111111111

Ivan was smoking heavily in his office when Estonia entered, or that was his "code name", and after giving a curt greeting, brought over his report in a manilla folder.

"Well, did you find her?" Ivan said, blowing out a long puff of smoke. "What's the bitch been up to?"

"You can see for yourself," Estonia answered, opening the folder to reveal a photo of Amelia smiling in her red and orange McDonald's outfit with that idiotic grin on her face. Below her name it read in black letters, "Employee of the Month". Ivan had gone to her old work place and found it still there. He'd taken it and given it to Estonia as Ivan didn't actually have a single photo of his own of Amelia.

When he picked it up, he saw a stack of black and white portrait-size photos beneath it. They were Amelia in that dress, Amelia walking down a street, and her entering some rundown building. But it was the one taken seconds after her entering the building that caught him.

"Why is Arthur entering this building?"

"I checked on that. It's a flat registered to the Kirkland name. I suspect both have taken up residence there."

"There living together?" Ivan said, smashing his cigar in the ash tray, he stood up. "Don't let her out of your sight. I want to know everything."

"Whatever you want," Estonia said in his dead-pan way.

Ivan couldn't accept this. She'd obsessed over him forever and now she would just run off and obsessive over that British prick?

_She is the type to throw herself over people she likes_, he thought, _and I never gave her permission to leave me._

TBC...


End file.
